


i know you love me, i am loving you more

by jflawless



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:38:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8473933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jflawless/pseuds/jflawless
Summary: au where mark says "i love you" for the first time after a date and jackson says "thanks!" then leaves





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is like 80% a joke 20% a genuine fic but i may write more in this universe in the future because i lowkey planned out their whole lives

The scrape of tires turning against pavement ends Jackson’s rambling half-story about his day of work that was more of a minute by minute description of every thought he remembers thinking combined with random facts he learned when he got distracted and started reading a Wikipedia page about the invention of printer paper. 

It’s late and Jackson has several assignments he gratefully ignored in favor of going on a date but he does, _eventually_ need to finish. His happy “good bye!” and lean across the console for a lightning fast kiss are enough for Jackson before he departs, but, just as he’s getting ready to throw open the passenger door, the engine cuts off. It’s unusual enough behavior for Jackson to stop and wait for Mark to explain.

He doesn’t, really. After turning off the car instead of pulling in, watching Jackson try to beat his own record for shortest time to travel from a running car to a front door, and immediately screeching back out of the lot to the road, Mark stares at him from the driver seat for an uncomfortably long period that probably spans about twelve seconds but feels more like twelve minutes.

He still doesn’t explain, but, he does smile warmly and say, “I love you.”

Jackson feels the warmth from that grin spread through his chest, up to his face, ears growing hot and he knows it’s not from being trapped beneath his date snapback. His heart beats faster, and a wide, excited grin takes over his face before he realizes it.

Enthusiastically, he replies with, “Thanks!” and finally, throws open the door and makes his weekly sprint from car door to front door.

He makes it up to his third floor dorm room in record time.

Mark’s apartment door opens with a heavy creak, alerting his roommate to his return. Nathan’s flipping through a thick textbook with no visible title with a look of disinterest and he tells Mark as soon as he steps through the threshold that he wasn’t waiting up for him even though Mark didn’t ask and Nathan definitely was.

“How was your date?” Nathan asks with his usual air of indifference even though Mark knows he’s a little bit desperate to hear about it. He thinks Jackson is fascinating.

And, tonight, he won’t be disappointed.

“Good,” Mark starts, equally nonchalant, “I told Jackson I love him.”

Nathan replies reflexively with a mildly impressed, “Nice.”

“He said ‘thanks’.”

For a brief moment, before he remembers who they’re talking about, Nathan adopts an expression that is part shock, part pity. It passes, and Nathan snorts.

“Bet you twenty bucks he calls you crying in half an hour.”

Mark reaches for the wallet in his back pocket, “Thirty he shows up at the door.”

It’s one thirty in the morning when Jackson, wide awake with the emotional high of finally finishing a twelve page paper (read: five thousand words of straight bullshit) wanders out of his room to reward himself with a drink from the vending machine one floor down and hopefully run into another person so he can enjoy some face to face interaction after an entire hour spent looking at nothing but his cracked laptop screen.

Both of his wishes come true, the machine spitting out a pleasantly cold, obnoxiously overpriced bottle of vitamin water seconds after he runs into one of his friendlier neighbors. They exchange the usual complaints about the cost of printing at a school that is already taking hundreds of thousands of them just for the education and how these drinks would be so much cheaper at the grocery store (statements followed with a shared look that says, more or less, that the extra seventy five cents is worth the minimal effort in getting off campus). She remembers, suddenly, when Jackson had mentioned in passing earlier that day about his potential date plans, and asks if they had gone through.

As enthusiastic as always, especially where it concerns his boyfriend of eight months, Jackson confirms he  _did_ go on the date and, without being asked, launches into a long-winded and over detailed description of where they went and what they ate and how cutely Mark’s nose scrunched up in disgust when he tasted Jackson’s carefully concocted drink – a perfectly measured mix of most of the offered fountain sodas.

“We went to the movie theater but neither of us had enough money so we just made out in the parking lot for like, twenty minutes and then Mark drove me home and he said, ‘I love you’ and I said ‘thanks’ and then I ran up the stairs in _twenty three seconds_.” When he finishes, he’s met with an almost comical look of shock.

At the same time as Jackson says, “ _Right?_ Twenty three seconds is so fast,” she says, “You said _thanks_?”

It’s Jackson’s turn to over express his surprise as he finally realizes the weight of this situation. Mark, his boyfriend, the _love of his life_ , told Jackson, an idiot, that he loved him for the first time and Jackson, a damn _fool_ , looked at the prettiest boy in the universe confessing his love and said _thanks_.

“I have to go,” Jackson says, and in less than twenty three seconds, he’s back outside.

Mark is rooting through one of the higher cabinets for the shitty bottle of wine he _swears_ they were keeping for “special occasions” that Nathan is pretty sure they drank when they came home, already drunk, and looked up monthly observances to find a holiday to give them an excuse to drink their Special Occasion Wine.

“Shouldn’t you go to bed?” Mark asks, looking through the wide doorway that opens their kitchen into the living room where Nathan is still lounging on the couch. He’s since abandoned his textbook and started unashamedly staring at Mark’s phone, sitting annoyingly silent on the milk crates that double as their coffee table.

“He’s going to call,” Nathan says, glaring at the phone as if he can will it to ring.

“You have class at, like, eight.”

“You have work at seven,” Nathan counters, attempting to give Mark an accusatory look while still not taking his eyes off the black screen. He mostly just looks stupid, neck craning awkwardly and eyebrows shooting up in a way that just makes him look startled.

Mark hums in acknowledgement. He’ll have to leave around six forty to make it to the grocery store in time to down several energy drinks and start his opening shift, but, he’s not that tired and far more invested in Jackson’s potential delayed reaction. At the very least, he has to stay up to see Jackson’s nightly ‘I finally finished the assignment I pretended didn’t exist for three weeks until it was due in two days and I hate college and also myself text’. Mark hasn’t gone to bed without seeing at least a “good night!!!” followed by a confusing string of emojis since he started dating Jackson and he’s not going to start now.

“I do have to work,” he says, “but I’m much more invested in this than you are. Doesn’t make since that you’re still waiting around.”

Nathan laughs loudly, once, just a sharp, high sound, “I’ve got _thirty bucks_ on this dude. That’s at least three pizzas. No way are you more invested than me.”

It only takes a few more minutes before Mark gives up on the search and resigns himself to a glass of water and several slices of hopefully-still-good cheese, the only thing left in his fridge. He’s just about to point out to Nathan that they should definitely have more food in the house, considering his occupation, when he’s interrupted by the sound of about ten hard, rapid knocks on the door, frighteningly loud in their otherwise silent apartment.

Immediately, their eyes meet through the doorway. Mark tilts his head slightly, pursing his lips and widening his eyes briefly in a silent ‘I told you so’ gesture.

Nathan shakes his head furiously, glancing between the traitorous phone and their door and the clock on their DVD player, blinking ‘2:03 AM’, “No. There’s no way,” it comes out as if he’s begging, “that’s not him.”

“New bet,” Mark proposes, jerking his head towards the door while looking at Nathan, telling him to answer it, “fifty he doesn’t even wait to see who it is and just starts talking.”

It doesn’t take Nathan long to agree, thinking that even Jackson isn’t that ridiculous, but, Mark knows him better.

The door creaks open, as it always does, and Mark leans out of the kitchen to look at Nathan’s back, unable to see around him and the door to actually know who’s on the other side. He’s still confident.

Jackson’s breathing is heavy, sweat dripping down his temples after a five mile run. Four feet from Mark’s door he had felt his cellphone weighing down his pocket and realized he could’ve just called, but, adrenaline had gotten him this far, he may as well just follow through. He knocks, not bothering to catch his breath, in too much of a hurry to explain himself to wait even a second.

As soon as the door opens, Jackson opens his mouth and yells, “I LOVE YOU TOO.”

Two seconds later, the scene registers, and in front of him is _not_ Mark, the beautiful and kind love of his life, but, instead, Nathan, the short, cranky roommate who Jackson had _just_ gotten over the embarrassment of calling Martin for three months, scowling at him, muttering, “Unbelievable.”

Simultaneously, overlapping Nathan’s quiet complaint is a much nicer, familiar, distance shout from inside the apartment, “Thanks!”

For the third time, Jackson runs.

Mark finally makes it into bed, fifty dollars richer, close to three than morning. He can’t find the regret for his late night when Jackson’s loud confession is replaying over and over again in his mind. It feels warm. Like when you take a sip of hot tea on a cold morning and you feel it traveling down your throat into your stomach, heating up your whole body on the way down. There’s something else, too, something indescribable, just one of those quiet perks of giving and receiving love, whole heartedly and innocent.

He texts Jackson, not to tease him as Nathan had all but demanded, but just to verify his safety, and feels a rush of ease when Jackson replies with eight crying faces and the fact that he can never be seen by Nathan again. It’s almost immediately followed by a more somber message, a simple ‘sorry’.

Mark sends back, ‘Don’t be. I still love you.’ Just as quickly, Jackson asks, ‘even when im ridiculous???’.

Laughing, Mark types out, ‘Especially when you’re ridiculous.’ He bites his lip and considers how embarrassing he’s being before deciding there’s no way to top Jackson, at the point, and adds ‘Always.’.

Jackson doesn’t say anything, but Mark gets on of his usual strings of emojis, several smiling faces, a random selection of hearts, a few blushing faces.

It’s late and they should both be asleep, but, Mark texts him again, says ‘I love you’ because he can now, because he does.

‘i love you too!!’ pops up on his screen almost instantly and Mark’s yawn turns into a smile halfway through.

‘I love you more’, Mark claims, knowing the fight won’t last long as he rolls onto his side, exhausted.

The last thing Mark sees before he falls asleep is the shortest message Jackson has ever sent him: ‘Impossible.’

 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr at jacksnwangs.tumblr.com and twitter @minyallgi


End file.
